


Hold Your Horses (Don't Kiss Them)

by ShippersList



Series: 50 kisses [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Roach gets all the kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:55:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26877793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippersList/pseuds/ShippersList
Summary: Geralt isn’t jealous of his horse.Heisn’t.…fuck. Fine. He is.(50 kisses prompt #1, Good Morning)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: 50 kisses [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960912
Comments: 16
Kudos: 319





	Hold Your Horses (Don't Kiss Them)

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, look, I started a new series!

”Good morning!” Jaskier chirps and plants a kiss on Roach’s nose right there in front of Geralt’s bewildered eyes.

What.

The.

Fuck?

* * *

It’s not that Jaskier is annoying.

On second thought, fuck that. He _is_ annoying but that’s beside the point. The point is that he’s not supposed to touch Roach and he did and he does and it’s grating on Geralt’s nerves. He bites back a snarl and tears a strip of his roasted hare with perhaps slightly too much force than is strictly necessary. Jaskier isn’t supposed to be that cheerful either because what the fuck does he have to be cheerful about? Life is hard and the Path is ruthless and Jaskier is an empty-headed lad barely out of diapers and he shouldn’t have anything to do with a witcher let alone willingly follow one. He has zero survival skills and absolutely no common sense (see: following a witcher) and he’s never silent and he kisses Geralt’s horse every damn morning.

”Don’t touch Roach,” Geralt grunts as the bard flutters around like a drunk butterfly.

”Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jaskier says with a wink and saunters forward, and Geralt doesn’t stare at his ass.

No, he doesn’t.

* * *

”Good morning!” Jaskier says and kisses Roach who snorts and headbutts him so hard he stumbles.

Geralt scowls.

* * *

Thing is, Jaskier’s presence chips away the hard shell Geralt built around himself after Renfri. It’s a good shell, a solid and sturdy one, and exactly what a witcher needs. A protective layer in between him and the rest of the world that cries out for his help and couldn’t be happier to stone him out after the monster is dead. And now Jaskier, with his wry smiles, light eyes, and incessant noise, brushes the shell off bit by a small bit. His quick wit makes Geralt smile even though he’s sure he’s kept his scowl on and the way Jaskier’s eyes go wide and his cheeks get rosy make Geralt turn around and stomp back into the woods.

Jaskier makes him want to feel things and that’s Not A Good Thing.

Thing is, Geralt doesn’t want to learn what happens when his defenses are breached.

Thing is… thing is…

Fuck.

Geralt sighs.

* * *

”Good morning!” Jaskier singsongs and pecks a flutter of kisses down Roach’s forehead, ending with a theatrical smack on her nose.

The mare neighs and shakes her head, blows warm air on the bard’s face and the damn man, _giggles_.

Being jealous of his horse is definitely a new low for Geralt.

* * *

Okay, fine, perhaps falling into bed with a slightly unstable yet insanely powerful sorceress wasn’t the brightest thing to do but at least Geralt knows where he stands with her. And true, perhaps tying their Destinies together wasn’t a smart move either but what’s done is done and… well, Jaskier is alright and that’s what counts.

His smiles are also dimmer and his eyes hooded and…

Geralt growls. He knows he fucked up but he doesn’t know how to fix it. So he retreats into himself, relies on his monosyllabic answers, and tries to convince himself that it was all for the best.

Jaskier is soft and innocent and vulnerable and he should’ve learned to leave a long time ago. (Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice that sounds a lot like Jaskier points out that his bard is far from innocent and his vulnerability is mostly for show and wouldn’t Geralt want to know where Jaskier is or isn’t soft?)

He ignores the voice just like he ignores the way Jaskier sneaks sugar cubes and carrots to Roach.

* * *

”Good morning,” Jaskier whispers as Roach nudges his cheek with her nose, gentle and careful.

The bard is limp in Geralt’s arms and the terror he feels nearly blinds him. He never should’ve let Jaskier leave the mountain. He should’ve followed him. He should’ve said he’s sorry. He should’ve— he should’ve—

He lays Jaskier down on a bedroll and starts cleaning up the blood and pretends he doesn’t see Roach’s disappointed look

* * *

Things are different after the Dragon Mountain. Geralt learns that there are few things he isn’t willing to do for those he truly cares about, including but not limited to learning to braid flower garlands with Ciri, bake bread with Yennefer, and talk to Jaskier. In all honesty, he’d rather grapple a nest of drowners with bare hands than talk about his feelings but the memory of Jaskier’s unmoving, bloody body in the dank cell Geralt had found him in haunts him. It’s one thing to entertain the idea of getting rid of the annoying (endearing) and infuriating (tempting) and frustrating (oh, so dear) bard than see his wish come true like in his worst nightmares.

Jaskier had ended up in that cell because he’d believed the vitriol Geralt had thrown at him.

Jaskier had nearly died because Geralt had been hurting and the only thing he knew to do was to hurt others to lesser his own pain.

Jaskier had been hurt because Geralt had been an idiot.

So, he grits his teeth and sits next to the pale bard in the shadow of the cottage with his armor and starts talking. It takes several tries and false starts and one, memorable occasion when Jaskier turns to look at him with his mouth open and Geralt decides he’d rather be _anywhere_ but there and flees to the hills. Literally.

But he comes back.

And he tries again.

And he juts his jaw and gives Yennefer’s raised brow a challenging look which earns him a fond huff and a soft kiss on his cheek.

Jaskier doesn’t see it because he’s tired from his walk around the cottage and is sleeping against Geralt’s chest.

* * *

”Good morning,” Geralt rumbles against the hollow of Jaskier’s throat. His bard smells of sweat, sex, and happiness, and it’s a heady combination that makes Geralt’s head spin.

”Hmm,” Jaskier replies, cards his fingers through Geralt’s hair. His hum reverberates in his chest and resonates against Geralt’s hand splayed on top of the mess of scars in the middle of his sternum.

”Eugh, gross,” Ciri mutters from the other side of the camp but her voice is fond.

Geralt smiles against Jaskier’s skin and drifts back to sleep.


End file.
